


Bad Day

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [15]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Counter Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: you've had a rough day at work and get back at your boyfriend's apartment, where he comforts you in the way he loves to ;)





	Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> request from my lovely friend ♥ hope you like!!!

Sighing with a sizeable lump in your throat, you kick the front door shut of your older boyfriend’s apartment and sling your bag on the couch. “Vince?!” you call, dragging your feet across the floor. “Vince!”

“What?” 

“Where are you?”

“Kitchen.”

You walk down the hall and find him standing gripping the fridge door, staring inside. “What the fuck are you doing?” you ask, smiling a little.

“I forgot what I came in here for,” he mumbles. “How was work?”

“Shit.”

He closes the fridge and turns to you. “How come, baby?”

“Customers being assholes to me. S’not my fault if the food comes out shitty, I nearly cried on my shift,” you sniffle, hugging him.

“I know, sweetie,” he sighs, rubbing your back. “I swear to fuckin’ God, one’a these days I’ma get me and Julie down there and anybody that’s rude to ya, we’ll shoot in the fuckin’ face.”

You manage a quiet giggle at how intense that was. “Too far, daddy.”

Vincent smirks at your comment. “You  _know_ what that does to me, baby...” he grins, tracing his fingers over your button-up shirt, teasing to undo them. You do him a favour and push your chest out, popping one open, and his eyes widen. “Now tha’s a fuckin’ talent I appreciate.”

Giggling, you hop on the counter, already feeling better-- your dumbass man always cheered you up. Last time it had been coming home to him having super glued his finger to the chair leg. You still didn’t know what the fuck he was trying to accomplish.

Rubbing your inner thighs from up your tight pencil skirt, Vince’s eyes keep flitting from your eyes to your chest. You can tell when he wants to see your tits (aka all the time), but he  _really_ wanted it right now. Smugly, you lick your lips and slowly unbutton them one by one, a tempting grin plastered on your pretty little face. “Vincent,” you pout, “I  _do_ wish you were there today... I was all flustered, I needed my daddy to take care of those fuckers...”

By now, his eyes are slightly narrowed, something he always does when he’s getting worked up by you. “What about ‘too far’?” he asks with a smirk, pushing his erection against your thigh. You whimper quietly, parting your legs more.

“No, they deserve it,” you breathe, “and seeing my daddy protect me like that would be pretty nice.”

“Mhm.” Distracted by your tits (no surprise there), Vincent pushes your skirt up to the top of your thighs and holds in a groan. Desperate for him, you wrap your arms around his neck and the two of you fall into a deep, intense kiss. His hands rub your thighs more eagerly as he melts into it and you let out a moan against his lips, feeling him smirk. “The shit you do to me, baby,” he growls, watching you rub his hard bulge. 

Unable to take it, he puts his hands up your skirt and practically yanks down your panties, taking them off and letting them drop to the floor. You let out another moan as he gropes your thighs, aching to feel your wetness. Grunting to himself, Vincent undoes his belt, the buckle jangling, and unzips himself. You paw at his cock but he pushes your hand away and gets it out, stroking himself for the initial release. “Fuck, honeypie,” he purrs, taking hold of your legs. He knows you’re ready-- with a groan, he slowly pushes himself into you.

“Daddy,” you squeal, your pussy throbbing over him, “I needed this...”

“I know ya did, princess,” he smirks, starting to fuck you steadily. As his pace quickens a little, he lets go of one of your legs and strokes your cheek. “Let me see those beautiful tits of yours, baby.”

More than happy to oblige, you pull down your bra, exposing your breasts to him, and you can feel him grow harder inside of you just at the sight. He grabs one of your tits and gropes it, each fuck harder than the last, making them bounce back and forth. Vincent  _always_ loves it when that happens, and he makes it well known, even when it’s not wanted--  _‘Yo, put your tits away, baby, they’re bouncin’ all over like they were this mornin’, Jules don’t need to see that.’_

He slows down a little, admiring your features. The way you looked up at him with those innocent little eyes while he fucked you good was one of his favourite things. “I love you,” you whisper, smiling up at him in awe.

You catch him off guard with this, and it takes him a second to process what you had just said. “I love you too, honeypie,” he smiles, thrusting back into you without warning.

“Fuck,” you cry, gripping onto the counter top for dear life. With his eyes still narrowed in lust and concentration, Vincent keeps up his pace, the two of you groaning with every fuck. 

“Mhm, yeah, that fuckin’ lovely pussy, baby,” he growls. “Fuckin’ my princess good.”

For you, that’s it-- hearing Vince’s little horny outbursts  _always_ got you. You feel your pussy tighten around his cock, and seeing the look of pure ecstasy on your face (and knowing that it was because of him) tips Vincent over the edge. He releases inside of you, one hand gripping your leg, the other fondling your boobs. A few lazy thrusts later and he pulls out. The two of you savour the sweet moment, admiring one another and catching your breaths.

Smiling at you, Vince stifles a laugh. “What’s funny?” you sniff, pulling down your skirt and hopping off the counter to slip back into your panties.

“Nothin’, you’re just nice.”

You narrow your eyes at your fuckhead of a boyfriend. “We just fucked on the kitchen counter and you call me ‘nice’?”

“You  _are!”_ he protests, putting himself away and doing up his belt.

“Yeah, and--” you begin, but the two of you cock your heads simultaneously as a faint banging on the front door interrupts you. You and Vincent look at each other and tentatively head to the hall where the door is-- he takes a look through the peephole and opens the door. 

“N*gga, what the fuck you been doin’ in here?! I been stood here like a stupid motherfucker for fifteen minutes!” huffs an angry-looking Jules. 

“Her,” replies Vincent nonchalantly.

“Vincent!” you tut, slapping his arm lightly.

“Oh, sorry to interrupt there, sweetie,” Jules says to you, closing the door behind him. “Why the fuck didn’t you answer my calls today?” he adds, glaring at Vince. The three of you head to the living room and you slump on the couch, cuddling up to your boyfriend.

“Been busy.”

“Doin’ what exactly?”

“Watchin’ TV!”

“You told me you didn’t watch TV, you lyin’ motherfucker. C’mon, get me a coffee.”

“Not yet. Gotta clean the kitchen first,” Vincent says, avoiding looking at his colleague.

“Since when d’you clean?!” frowns Jules, getting up off of the armchair. “Fuck that, I’m gettin’ my own.” 

Vincent gets up and follows him. “Nonono, don’t! It’s still fuckin’ wet, man!” You sigh to yourself, gently facepalming at your mess of a boyfriend.

“Eurrghhh!! Did you fuck her in here, you filthy motherfucker?!” Jules asks in disgust, his face all screwed up.

“C’mon man, it’s my place, I can do her where I want!!”


End file.
